


East of Eden

by Hodgeheg002



Series: All The Best [3]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: M/M, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26121724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hodgeheg002/pseuds/Hodgeheg002
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be anything. It was only supposed to be a stress release, a distraction from the pressure of the Zero XL and impending mission, but when have things ever just been what they were 'supposed' to be?Cross posted to Tumblr. Eventual tie-in to Best Laid Plans.
Relationships: Virgil/The Mechanic
Series: All The Best [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876195
Comments: 33
Kudos: 34





	1. Down the Rabbit Hole

It had all started on the Island. It had started as a way to relieve tension from building the Zero-XL, from hostilities of other members of the Island, of the pressure of going on a mission to the other end of the galaxy on the off chance that there was someone there to rescue. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything, was only supposed to be a temporary release of need and want, but then Jeff had returned and the Hood had been captured and they found that they couldn’t stop. The fire fuelling the passion changed, softened, and soon it became more about companionship and understanding instead of just sex.

It became a relationship.

And then the man known as the Mechanic, but actually named Dave, left for New York, taking a piece of Virgil with him.

That had been that. Virgil hadn’t been interested in moping around. There had never been any confirmation that the thing between them was anything, that it meant something, and if Virgil had felt differently then that was on him. Everything he had given had been his choice, and he wasn’t going to resent that. A week of isolation down in the depths of Thunderbird Two’s hangar had been enough to sufficiently lock any lingering hurt into a box in his mind never to be examined, and he had continued on with his life.

Then Dave got back in contact, and those defences had started to crumble. Virgil had always prided himself on being physically strong, able to wield the heavy duty machinery that was so often required on missions. Their Thunderbirds were a reflection of themselves; Five permanently in the stars whilst Four went underwater, One a speed machine and Three the adrenaline fuelled adventure the youngest brother craved, but Two was strong, dependable, reliable, and that was how Virgil liked to think of himself.

None of these adjectives applied now, though, not in this New York apartment with the one person who seemed to be able to undo all these adjectives with a single look, a raised eyebrow, a suggestive smirk of lips. These same lips were crushed against Virgil’s, having barely uttered a hello upon opening the door. Fingers were busy undoing buttons and zips, leaving a messy trail of clothing in their wake, and Virgil didn’t know where the bedroom was, didn’t particularly care. They had never bothered much with the luxury of a bed before and now didn’t seem like the time to start, not with the way Dave was busy drawing patterns of fire over Virgil’s skin with his fingertips.

It was probably not the smartest idea for the two of them to get involved again and if coherency in such situations were possible, Virgil may have done more to prevent any further destruction to his defences. Dave’s lips moved lower, to the places that would make Virgil gasp and moan, and any lingering coherency vanished.

It wasn’t until later, when the late February sun started to set, flooding the apartment with an orange glow and the two of them were tangled in a sated heap on the living room floor, that the idea that Virgil was well and truly fucked- in more ways than one- gained prominence in his mind. It was at that moment that Virgil wondered whether or not it was too late to get out of whatever the two of them had become, and how much damage was going to be inflicted in the process.


	2. A Question of Morality

Scott was never going to approve of the Mechanic. He tolerated his presence on the Island to the extent of needing him to help Brains build the T Drive, but he had never fully managed to trust the man, to move past all of the danger and destruction he had caused whilst trying to escape the Hood’s control. It did not matter that Dave had felt remorse for his actions, that he had been trying to move away from the clutches and control of another in a desperate attempt for freedom, that even Grandma Tracy had apparently forgiven him. As the Mechanic, he had put people- including International Rescue- in danger and that was something Scott could not forgive.

Virgil could understand that, and could accept Scott’s reservations. He didn’t share them, or agree with them, but with everything they had lost as a family, over and over again, Scott had never been particularly good at forgiveness when his brothers were threatened. Virgil was less stubborn in that regard, they all were, and could see the desperation to escape for what it was. That desperation had come to a head one late night when Virgil hadn’t been able to sleep from the anxiety and The Mechanic had been working through the night. Brains had, for once, been absent, no doubt shooed to bed by Grandma Tracy who had taken it upon herself to make sure their resident scientist actually slept ever since Jeff had first brought him to the Island. Brains had never been able to disobey her instructions of self-care, and the result had been a near empty lab when Virgil walked in.

In all honesty, Virgil didn’t remember how it had started, who initiated it, but there had definitely been a conversation about morality and repentance, good versus bad and whether it was truly the dichotomy it was portrayed as. It had been good, being able to talk like that. All of Virgil’s conversations of late had been centred around Gordon’s recovery or the mission to rescue their father, and whilst they were important conversations, ones that needed to be had, they were fraught with stress and worry. Nothing like the easy, philosophical musings he was currently having.

And then- “Do you think I’m good?”

The question disarmed Virgil. He hadn’t expected it, hadn’t occurred to him that whilst he might see the issue in varying shades of grey, the Mechanic had a more black and white outlook.

“I…” Virgil trailed off, unsure. The Mechanic looked at him, waiting for an answer, whilst the rest of the lab seemed to melt away, leaving them in a microcosmic bubble of just the two of them. Virgil could hardly breathe.

“I don’t think I am,” The Mechanic said, except it wasn’t him who said that, it was Dave, the real person who normally wore a mask to hide such vulnerabilities.

Virgil would never know what exactly caused him to do what he did next, whether it was the statement or the look on Dave’s face or the magnetic pull of the other man, but Virgil leaned forward, closing the space between them and brushed his lips against Dave’s ever so chastely. The two of them froze, Virgil’s heart hammering in his chest so loudly that he almost missed Dave's tiny catch of breath.

“I think you could be,” Virgil whispered, and this time it was Dave who kissed him, hand tangling in Virgil’s hair to pull him closer. It was nothing like the previous kiss, which had been chaste and brief, a placeholder to a question. This one was electricity and fire, and it pulsed through Virgil’s veins like poison. Dave broke away with a gasp and the two of them were almost silent, trying to catch their breath. Dave’s hand was still tangled in Virgil’s hair and Virgil had gripped Dave’s bicep at some point, but it was the intensity of their shared look that kept them pinned in place.

“Do you really think so?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Virgil promised, leaning in once more. Their lips met again and this time the ferocity and passion built more slowly, a gradual deepening that sent shockwaves through Virgil’s nerve endings. Dave pressed into Virgil, pushing him back against the cushions of the sofa that was normally used for either Brains or Virgil to crash on if they worked too late, but had formed the stage for their earlier debate of morality. Virgil moved with him, nipping at Dave’s lip and revelling in the gasp elicited. Dave reared back, releasing the catch on the armour that allowed him to control the mechas he was using whilst building, and it dropped to the floor with a thud. Virgil took the opportunity to sit up and push Dave down, reversing their earlier position in one smooth motion that ended with his tee shirt similarly discarded. He kissed his way down Dave’s bare chest, leaving a scorching trail of lips and teeth. He scraped against Dave’s nipple, but this was short lived, his forehead dropping onto Dave’s chest with a low moan when Dave’s hand dipped beneath the waistband of Virgil’s cotton pyjamas and cupped his erection. Virgil managed to look up long enough to see the expression Dave was levelling at him, raw and open and full of promise, and something unidentifiable curled in the pit of Virgil’s stomach. Dave’s hand then moved and Virgil’s thought processes went blank, only able to concentrate on the all consuming desire.

Later, after Virgil had gone back to his room before any of his early rising brothers could catch him, he lay awake on his bed staring at the ceiling whilst the waves below crashed to almost the same rhythm as his thoughts. He knew that what had just happened was most likely a one time thing, something that couldn’t be repeated or be ultimately sustainable, that even if the circumstances were different there was no guarantee Dave would even want to do it again, take it further. Even still, as Virgil finally started to drift off to sleep just as the rising sun kissed the sky gold and pink, he could still feel the burn of where their skin had touched, the soft sighs and groans as they had taken their fill of each other, and deep down Virgil knew he would do anything he could to feel that again.


	3. Transition Points

Virgil thought that time late at night in the workroom was going to be a one time thing, that he shouldn’t read too much into it. It was unlikely that the conditions that had precipitated them coming together in the workroom could even be replicated, and Virgil was okay with that. Both of them were busy, needing to focus on their respective tasks that contributed to the project, and any version of ‘them’ would just lead to distractions they could not afford at this time. It was only supposed to be a one time thing, and Virgil was okay with that.

Virgil was wrong. It wasn’t the first time he was wrong, but it had one of the better outcomes as a result.

It was a few days later, when the Island was blissfully quiet for once. Alan was furiously studying, trying to make up all the lessons he had missed due to covering Gordon’s missions so he could make the target of graduating with the rest of his class. Brains was at the comms desk, helping Scott with a particularly technical mission, although Virgil didn’t have the specifics; he had been deeply asleep when the call came through, having returned from his own, middle of the night mission not that much earlier. Grandma Tracy was busy helping Gordon with his physical therapy and general check ups, trying to get him strong enough to be able to participate in the training that would begin in a few weeks time.

That left an otherwise occupied Island, and Virgil had drifted down to the workroom shortly after breakfast to find Dave working there, not wanting to have to wait for Brains to finish assisting Scott. Virgil had offered to help, but found himself pinned against the wall moments later instead, Dave’s lips hot and insistent against his. Virgil smiled as flannel was pushed off his shoulders and discarded on the floor, other clothing quickly following. There were definitely worse things to be wrong about. 

These meetings happened more frequently after that, increasing as they got closer to the launch date and the pressure increased. There was never any pattern, too dependent on who was around to have any sort of predictability as to when one would seek out the other. It was often late at night, when the rest of the Island was asleep, and nearly always in the workroom, with the exception of twice when Dave had managed to sneak into Virgil’s bedroom. These times had been fun, the thrill of potentially being caught added to the desire that fuelled their meetings, but as they never planned for anything to happen it was typically confined to the workroom, where they were more likely to find the other.

Then came the night before the launch, where they had clung to each other over and over, finding all the places hey by now knew would make the other gasp and moan in pleasure, trying desperately- if subconsciously- to imprint themselves in the mind of the other, That time, unlike the other, Virgil had stayed afterwards, tangled in Dave’s arms, holding each other close and falling asleep together for the first time until Dave’s alarm, set at an unreasonably early time, woke them up again and they were forced back to reality.

Then Virgil had gone to the other side of the galaxy and Dave had fended off an attack from the Chaos Crew, and when Virgil had returned something had changed between the two of them. It wasn’t until later the next day that they sought each other out, after they had a chance to sleep off the excitement and adrenaline and Virgil had satisfied himself that Jeff truly was going to be alright, despite his father’s earlier reassurances. This time they had found each other on the beach, something unspoken drawing them both to that spot, They didn’t say anything, didn't even do anything except trade a slow, lazy kiss when Virgil first sat down. Virgil was still exhausted both physically and emotionally from the rescue and Dave a mess of bruises from where he had fallen from Fuse’s punch preventing them from going much further. Instead, they flopped next to each other, staring out into the ocean and watching the waves crash into the beach as they tried to piece together the words they wanted to say to each other.

“Dave, I-”

“Virgil-”

Virgil laughed, blushing slightly and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “You go first.”

“I’m leaving the Island.”

“Oh.” Virgil felt blindsided, not having expected that. Logically, he knew that Dave would probably not want to stay forever, especially now that the T-Drive had been completed and the Hood had been returned to the custody of the GDF, but the news still shocked Virgil.

“I’m leaving in an hour. Kayo said that she would be able to drop me off in Sydney.”

“I see.” Virgil stared at the waves, digging a small hole in the sand with his finger. Dave didn’t look at him either.

“What were you going to say to me?”

“Oh, um, nothing. It’s fine, it’s nothing.”

“Okay. I’m going to finish packing. Goodbye, Virgil.” Dave stood, brushing the sand off his trousers, and all Virgil could do was nod, his throat tight and constricting all of a sudden. He listened as Dave’s footsteps disappeared, still not able to turn and watch. Virgil’s stomach clenched and he thought he was going to throw up, but honestly, Virgil was angry at himself. There had never been any indication that they were ever going to be something, not in the way Penelope and Gordon were. Those two had been obvious in their affections for years, dancing around the edges of a relationship as they cautiously tested the waters before diving in together, rather than simply sleeping together to satisfy a need the way Virgil and Dave had done. Dave had never indicated that there was anything more to it than that, and if Virgil had developed feelings towards Dave along the way, then that was on Virgil.

Virgil wasn’t aware how long he spent sitting there until a roar above him indicated that Kayo and Dave had left the Island, taking the small plane that was used for short trips to the mainland when Thunderbird Two- and its pilots- were unavailable. He watched as the plane climbed higher into the sky, growing smaller and smaller until it was no longer visible. Swallowing heavily, he pushed himself up, dusting himself off and making his way inside. There had never been any implication that any form of relationship was going to grow out of whatever it was that he and Dave had, and Virgil reasoned that he shouldn't be too disappointed that it had reached its inevitable conclusion. Dave was gone, his father was back, and Virgil would have to figure out what his next step would be.

A small part of Virgil wanted that next step to be towards wherever in the world Dave had gone.


	4. New Horizons

Virgil stared at the message on his phone, heart hammering in his chest. It had come through on his private line, the one that was not connected to International Rescue or Tracy Industries, the one that was barely used even by his own brothers. Somehow, Dave had managed to get hold of it. For some reason, he had sent his address, and an invitation.

Virgil had given it precisely ten minutes of thought, before making the leave request, citing some kind of art emergency. Or a musical one. To be honest, the excuse hardly mattered to him, he was overdue on leave anyway and since returning Jeff had been forcing each of his sons to take the rest and relaxation time they had barely afforded themselves prior to his return. It had taken very little persuasion to convince his family to give him the rest of the week off, Scott even giving him a lift to New York in Thunderbird One.

It hadn’t taken him long to get to Brooklyn, or even to get up the stairs to the front door of the apartment, one of the old, converted warehouse loft type places that littered the side of the East River and provided a certain type of industrial aesthetic that Virgil loved himself. It had taken even less time for the door to open after Virgil’s tentative knock, Dave filling the doorway. They stared at each other for a moment, each of them not quite believing that the other was there, that this was happening. They had not spoken since Dave had left Virgil sitting alone on the beach on Tracy Island, but none of that seemed to matter the moment that Dave reached out and seized Virgil by the lapels on his coat, crushing his mouth against Virgil’s. Virgil was vaguely aware of his overnight bag- originally destined for a hotel room- being chucked into a corner before his arms came up behind Dave’s back, hands clutching at Dave’s shirt. Somehow, one of them managed to kick the door closed, although for the life of him Virgil did not know who, and the two of them sank into one another.

***

Virgil woke to muted light and heavy blankets and no chiming comms, all indicative that he was not, in fact, in his bed on Tracy Island. His bedroom had blackout blinds and airy cotton sheets and an alarm clock that was controlled by John, EOS and worldwide emergencies, all perfect for an rescue operation based in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and a world away from the heavy down comforter and large, industrial windows that flooded the room with light. He stretched out, and as his brain rebooted he could hear the sound of a shower running elsewhere in the apartment, reminding him of just who’s apartment he was in. Piece by piece, memories of the day- and night- before fit themselves together in Virgil’s mind, providing answers to the sleep addled questions he had first had when he had woken up, but leaving other, bigger ones in their wake. Questions such as why had he gone to the address sent through his private messaging service, why had he stayed the night, why had Dave asked him to come in the first place.

What did he feel for Dave.

What did Dave feel for _him_.

Virgil tried to force those questions out of his mind, however hard a task that was.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, silent and still, watching as the weak sun climbed higher and higher into the sky. From where he was, in the upper level of the loft apartment, Virgil could make out the East river with all of the boat traffic that went with it. He was too far away to make out specific details, but the splashes of yellow of the taxi-boats stood out against the grey of the water and sky in a burst of brightness that reminded Virgil forcibly of Gordon and home and, importantly, Scott, who didn’t know exactly what had brought Virgil so suddenly to New York. A hot twist of guilt curled in Virgil’s stomach at that thought. He had never deliberately kept something from his brother before, ever. He wasn’t even one hundred percent sure why he had started now. He didn’t think that, ultimately, Scott would mind too much about the relationship, and even if he did Virgil was very much of the opinion that it was not Scott's prerogative to judge his relationship, whoever it was with. It was more the fact that Virgil hadn’t trusted Scott with something like this in the first place, even if Virgil hadn’t figured what ‘this’ even was yet. This thought circled Virgil’s mind to the earlier questions he had been trying to avoid, and he rolled over onto his stomach with a frustrated groan.

He needed coffee.

In all of his musings, he hadn’t realised that the shower had stopped running, and it wasn’t until he heard a throat clearing that Virgil even noticed that Dave had re-entered the room. He was dressed casually, more so than Virgil had ever seen him, and Virgil took a moment to admire the way the navy jumper clung to his muscles. 

“Breakfast?” 

“Is there coffee?”

“There’s a cafe at the end of the street. All the coffee you could wish for.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’ll let you get dressed then.” He disappeared back through the doorway and Virgil could hear him making his way down the metal staircase. He flopped back down on the bed. Whatever was waiting for him in the cafe, he had a feeling it was a lot more than breakfast. 

***

Once again, Virgil was wrong, but this time led to confusion rather than fulfilment of desire. Just as Dave had promised, coffee was provided, along with eggs and bacon and English muffins, all smothered in hollandaise sauce. He hadn’t had such a luxurious breakfast for a long time, normally restrained to either bagels or cereal in an effort to avoid as much of his grandmother’s cooking as possible, and he was loathe to break his enjoyment by bringing up something that could potentially bring the two of them to an end. Dave seemed to have a similar outlook, navigating his own food in a companionable silence. It wasn’t until they had finished eating and Virgil was on his second cup of coffee that he eventually did speak.

“I have to go to my workshop.”

“Oh.”

“You can come, if you want.” 

“Do you want me to?”

“I could use a second opinion on the project I’m working on.”

“Okay then. Tell me about your project.” Virgil listened carefully as Dave launched into the details of his latest project, something to do with transporting supplies more quickly and efficiently to extreme remote areas which included the colonies in space, and Virgil was able to push his anxiety over the state of their maybe relationship to the back of his mind.

***

“Dave, why did you ask me to come here?” 

It was the afternoon of the last day of Virgil’s visit, Scott coming to pick him up the next morning, and it had taken until then for Virgil to pluck up the courage to ask Dave one of the many questions that had been brewing since he had first received the text. Their time together had flown past, spent almost entirely in either Dave’s workroom or bedroom, and whilst Virgil wasn’t _complaining_ , per se, as to how their time had gone, he was acutely aware of the uncertainties that had been following them like a plague. There were too many unknowns, ranging from whether this was some sort of extended booty call, or whether the plan had been for Virgil to help Dave work out some of the knots in his project, or whether it was the invitation to start something more. Virgil knew that working out the reason as to why he had been invited in the first place was key to unlocking and moving past some of those insecurities, but the two of them had been dancing around the edges of that particular conversation for days and they were running out of time. Virgil needed an answer, of some sort, to something, before he left for the Island again and judging by the expression that flickered over Dave’s face, he wasn’t the only one.

“Your grandma called me,” he said finally, not looking at Virgil and instead fiddling with one of the components of his projects. “Said I should call you, to talk.”

“Oh.” Virgil was dumbstruck, trying to work through the information and make sense of it. “Wait, what? _Grandma_ called you? How did she even know?”

“Apparently she’s known for a while.” Dave finally put down the object he was fiddling with and looked up at Virgil. “She’s very observant.”

Pinning that thought as an issue to be looked at further in the future, Virgil pressed on, wanting to keep the conversation focused on why he had been invited over. “So why did you text?”

Dave sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward gesture. “Honestly, I don’t know. I think… I figured that you’d probably not want to talk to me. I wouldn’t want to, if I’d been left on the beach the way you were. I guess the rejection would have been easier if it was kept to a text, rather than a call. I still… I still wanted to see you, though, which is why I sent my address, but I didn’t think you would come.”

“But I did.”

“Yeah. You did.”

The raw and honest nature of the conversation was echoed on Dave’s face, and Virgil was sure that his own expression would be similar. The air between them was thick and charged, heavy with expectation and unspoken words. Virgil could hardly breathe, his head spinning. Now that he had one answer he wanted more, but Dave was leaning in towards him and before he knew it their lips were locked together, moving against each other in desperation. Dave’s fingers reached up to tangle in Virgil’s hair, his tongue sweeping against Virgil’s lips in a request for access that was readily granted. Virgil could taste coffee and mint and a thousand possibilities and the intensity of the kiss was making his head swim.

This wasn’t what he wanted though. He didn’t want to keep sleeping with Dave if all it was going to do was make him more confused, more unsettled. With difficulty he managed to claw his way out of the soup of lust and desire that had taken over his brain, pulling away from Dave.

“Stop,” he gasped and Dave moved back as well, arms falling to his sides and confusion written all over his face.

“Virgil?”

“I just… I can’t do this again. I’m sorry.” He stood up abruptly and grabbed his jacket before heading for the door. He felt vaguely sick and he could dimly hear Dave calling after him, but he didn’t stop. He needed to get away from Dave and his workshop and apartment, away from this corner of Brooklyn and back to the Island where things made slightly more sense.

He managed to make it outside before a hand reached out and grabbed the back of his jacket, jerking him to a halt. Virgil turned, frowning, but the look of vulnerability and pain on Dave’s face caused any remark of indignation to die on his lips.

“Please. Please don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“No. Please, Virgil, I can’t-“

“What do you want from me? Because if it’s just someone to hook up with, to casually see and text out of the blue, then find someone else. I am not that person.”

“Is that what you really think of me? That the only reason I ever spoke to you was to use you in that way?” Dave’s voice was quiet and remarkably calm compared to Virgil’s borderline hysteria, but it still managed to convey the same amount of hurt. Virgil’s shoulders slumped as he felt the fight leave him.

“I’m worried I want more from this than you do,” he finally admitted.

“And what do you want from this?”

Virgil swallowed heavily against the lump forming in his throat, reaching forward and tangling his fingers in Dave’s. “This. Us. Everything.”

Dave looked down at where their hands were joined, before catching Virgil’s eyes again. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“We can try, if you want. I… I shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry. I’m willing to try this properly, if you are.”

Virgil didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a step closer to Dave, so close that he could feel Dave’s breath, and tilted his head up to kiss him again. It was slow and sweet and unlike anything the two of them had ever shared before, and when the two of them parted again they were smiling.

“Come on,” Virgil said eventually, breaking the bubble of silence that had grown. “Let’s get back to your place, it’s way too cold out here.”

Dave laughed, twisting their hands slightly so that they could hold them more naturally whilst he led them through the street. “What about that art show? I thought you had to see it in case your family started asking about it.”

“Screw that. I can think of much more fun things we could be doing. I’ll look it up online on the way back.”

“Sounds good to me.” 

As they walked back to the loft, Virgil felt lighter than he had in months, the world seeming much more promising and kind than it had done an hour ago.


	5. Silk

They didn’t leave the apartment that evening. Any plans that the two of them had, from food to art galleries, were forgotten the moment that Virgil had taken Dave’s hand and started towing him back towards the loft. Their intentions started demurely enough, taking the time to hang up jackets and put away shoes, sitting properly on the sofa, but before long the sweet and gentle kisses morphed into something deeper, more sensual and seeking affirmation, imprinting themselves on each other again and again. It was addictive, and Virgil wanted more, wanted everything Dave had to give and to give everything he had in return.

It didn’t take them long to get to the bedroom after that. Virgil wouldn’t have minded staying on the sofa in the living room, but he couldn’t help but admit that there was something more intimate about the bedroom, rather than just falling into each other wherever they happened to be at the time. It was a distinction that marked this time different from before, a line in the sand that marked the difference that an afternoon conversation could make. Sure, they had made use of beds before, a few times on the Island and more frequently during Virgil’s visit to New York, but they had never sought one out before, made the conscious decision to not simply continue in the same place they had started. It was something different, an acknowledgement of the intimacy that they now shared, a different way of showing their care for each other’s feelings that Virgil hadn’t experienced for a long time. The sighs and gasps that followed were equally gentle, light caresses replacing the frenzied touching of before, the difference between cotton and silk. It felt like Virgil was floating, the experience ethereal alien. The only thing that his mind could keep a hold of was the sensation of Dave under him, the patterns that were being traced up and down Virgil’s body, the taste of Dave’s lips and the way their tongues slid against each other. Virgil wanted to drown in the sensations and never return to reality.

Virgil woke early the next morning, a time that he never normally saw if he got the choice. He didn’t move, almost didn’t dare to breathe, not wanting to find out that the spell that had allowed for his desires, both emotional and physical, to be reciprocated the day before had crashed and shattered around him. He needn’t have worried. Dave was still there, still fast asleep, expression smooth and untroubled. Virgil considered getting up, showering and starting the coffee machine that he had managed to unearth from deep within a cabinet in the kitchen, but there was something compelling about the way that Dave was so fast asleep, and Virgil found himself unable to move, content instead to simply watch the rise and fall of Dave’s chest and listen to the rhythmic breathing that accompanied it.

He wasn’t sure if he fell into a doze himself, because when he blinked Virgil found that it was now late morning and Dave had also started to wake up, groggy and yawning. Eventually he was able to fix Virgil with a lazy stare, eyebrow raising and smirk in place.

“How long have you been awake?” he asked, tucking a hand underneath his head. Virgil smiled in response, dropping a kiss onto Dave’s bare shoulder.

“Not sure. I think I drifted off again. I didn’t make coffee though.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure I can manage to take my boyfriend to brunch,” he quipped. Virgil felt a frisson of excitement run through him at the confirmation of their relationship, and it must have shown on his face because Dave had actually laughed, pulling Virgil in close and pinning him against his chest. Virgil could have spent the rest of the day there, the rest of eternity, but eventually Dave started to pull away, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. Virgil sat up, leaning against the headboard and watching Dave head to the bathroom. Just as he reached the doorway, Dave turned his head slightly to call back to Virgil over his shoulder.

“I’m having a shower, want to join me?”

“ _ Yes _ .”

***

Virgil had never been more reluctant in his life to leave New York for the Island. The journey had been delayed by a few hours, Scott having reached his flight hours following a mission the day before, but Virgil hadn’t complained, filling the time instead at Dave’s workshop again, Virgil catching up on the art show he was supposed to have seen whilst Dave worked on his project, occasionally peering over Virgil’s shoulder and commenting on the artwork which quickly devolved into friendly bickering over the different interpretations of artwork.

It was just Virgil, however, who took the cab to the airstrip where he was meeting Scott. Dave had needed to stay in the workshop and try and catch up on his work so that he would meet the deadline the people who had contracted him had said, but his reluctance to let Virgil go had been made clear by the long, lingering kiss they had shared while the cab idled outside. Virgil had wanted to leave either, but a promise to call later on when he was back on the Island and to visit again soon had eventually convinced him to get into the cab and start the journey home.

Scott was already waiting for him when he finally arrived at the airstrip, sat in the cockpit of the small plane they used for personal trips and catching up on the novel that he had been trying to read since Christmas. He looked up quickly as Virgil climbed aboard the plane, stowing his back and taking the co-pilot’s seat next to Scott. Scott raised an eyebrow at the relaxed aura that was emanating from his brother, something that had been missing for a long time. Scott wasn’t too clear on what exactly had been so pressing that Virgil had needed to rush off to New York, but whatever it was had obviously been what was needed, a heaviness having been lifted, and Scott couldn’t help but smile at the change.

“Good trip?”

“Excellent trip.”   
  


They fell silent as Scott received clearance for take off and started to taxi the plane down the runway, concentrating on the controls. Once they were airborne however Scott turned back to Virgil, resuming his earlier questioning.

“Alright then, who was it?”

“What?”

“Virg, I know you. The only times you look like that is when you’ve started something with someone. So, spill, who was it? Or is, actually, probably wouldn’t be so satisfied if it had gone belly-up. Anyone I know?”

“...Dave.”   
  


“Dave? I don’t think I know him.”

“You do. He lived on the Island with us. Before we got Dad back.”

“Da- you mean the Mechanic?” 

The temperature in the plane seemed to drop several degrees, Scott’s grip on the controls tightening. Virgil’s jaw twitched.

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“Other than he tried to kill us all on several occasions? Nope, can’t  _ imagine  _ why there would be a problem.”

“Don’t be an asshole Scott, it’s not like you even got to know him.”   
  


“And you do? Three days and suddenly you’re the expert on the Mechanic- sorry,  _ Dave _ .”

“It’s been a bit more than three days, actually, and just because  _ you’re  _ a stubborn jerk who can’t change their minds after making snap judgements doesn’t mean we all are.”

“What do you mean, more than three days? When did this start?”

Virgil sighed, slumping into his seat as his good mood from earlier evaporated. “The Island,” he mumbled. “When the T-Drive was being built.”

The rest of the journey was spent in an awkward silence as Scott processed the confession and all of its implications. Virgil stared out of the cockpit window, unable to look at his brother. After what felt like an eternity the Island came into view and Scott brought the plane into land, using Thunderbird Two’s runway and pulling it into its space in the hangar. It finally came to a stop and the two of them unbuckled their seatbelts, Virgil desperate to get out of the uncomfortable atmosphere, but before he could leave Scott finally spoke again.

“I just… I wish you had told me, Virgil. You always used to.” 

With that, Scott disappeared, and Virgil felt tiny.


	6. Reparations

The atmosphere was tense on the Island for the next few days. Aside from missions, where communication was essential but manageable through clipped professional tones, Scott and Virgil did not speak to each other. Virgil hadn’t known how to broach the subject; it wasn’t as if anyone else had known about him and Dave whilst they had been on the Island and Virgil hadn’t been sure what to expect when he made his flight to Brooklyn. There hadn’t exactly been a plan, more a response based on instinct. Virgil had told Scott as soon as there had been something to tell.

Except, and there was always an exception when it came to him and Scott by virtue of them being the eldest two and having worked together long than Virgil and Gordon or Gordon and Alan, that there had been some sort of expectation, an idea, of what could happen and Virgil  _ hadn’t  _ told Scott. In fact, Virgil had actively concealed the purpose of the trip from him, claiming an urgent art show and relying on the fact that their father was desperate for them to take time for themselves after eight long years of fighting to keep International Rescue alive and able to take care of the world’s emergencies. None of them had begrudged their father’s legacy, had been more than happy to take up the mantle o f saving others from the same tragedies that they themselves had gone through as a family, but that didn’t mean that Virgil wasn’t glad to take up the offer of some rest and relaxation now that he didn’t have quite as much pressure on him from stopping Scott working himself into an early grave.

Still. He should have told Scott, even if Scott’s best relationship advice often amounted to little more than ‘it’s probably more trouble than it’s worth’. Which was fine for Scott, who didn’t want or need an additional plate to his spinning act, but Virgil hadn’t and didn’t want to have nothing for the majority of his adult life. No pain no gain, as they say.

Virgil wasn’t sure how to approach Scott, how to bring up what was obviously a sore topic no matter how much advice he was given by Grandma, who seemed determined to get her two eldest grandsons on actual speaking terms. Even Dave was aware, half a world away, Virgil telling him that there had been a falling out although not over what. Dave hadn’t offered advice, feeling unqualified to become involved in sibling issues when he himself had none, but the listening ear serving as a sounding board had been all the help Virgil had needed to make the decision to go down to Thunderbird One’s hangar, where Scott had been hiding out for the past few days, and fix things.

The klaxon had sounded before Virgil had even made it down from the paint studio, and the apology had to be postponed as all four of them gathered in the lounge to listen to what John had to say. It was an earthquake, a big one, and Virgil resisted the urge to groan. Of all the natural disasters they dealt with on a regular basis, earthquakes were his least favourite, promising multiple injuries and casualties and difficult, complicated work that would take hours. Different types of rescue crews would also be involved and John’s job would get all that much harder in terms of coordination, as would theirs on the ground, the chain of command becoming muddied as too many agencies tried to take control. Normally the other agencies would defer to International Rescue simply because they tended to have the most experience, being able to jet off to any part of the globe that required their assistance, whilst the local agencies provided the essential information about the area that would otherwise be missing, but sometime there would be a tussle over control and Virgil and John would have to waste time soothing egos whilst Scott tried to get mobile control into a functioning state. It wasn’t easy work, and Virgil hated them.

The other issue with earthquakes were aftershocks. There was never any warning as to when one would strike, and Virgil had been caught out by them more than once. Normally though, there were only minor injuries, bruises and scrapes being the worst of the physical damage.

Normally, Virgil wasn’t inside a precarious building trying to find someone’s daughter.

The ground shook and heaved and Virgil found himself falling as the floor gave way, causing him to plummet down a story. He landed with a thud, the impact winding him but not causing damage. Unfortunately, the aftershock had not just caused the floor he had been standing on to collapse, and whilst he had not had injuries from the initial fall to the ground, the strike from the masonry cascading on top of him caused enough pain to see stars. Virgil was aware enough to hear the strangled yell of his name from Scott over the comms, before the pain radiating from his leg and ribs took over and awareness was lost, able to focus only on the heavy weight that was pinning him in place. 

He must have lost consciousness at some point, although he couldn’t remember exactly when that had happened, because the next thing he knew he was waking up in a hospital room, blinking rapidly to bring the world into focus. Scott was in the chair next to his bed, one hand resting on top of the covers and even as he slept his forehead was creased into a frown. 

“Scott?” Virgil asked, and he must have been on the good drugs because he cringed after he said it, seeing the inky smudges beneath Scott’s eyes that indicated a lack of sleep he was now trying to catch up on and that Virgil had just interrupted. Scott shifted, opening his own eyes, frown growing deeper as his brain caught up with what had woken him before smoothing out into a clearer expression.

“Virg, hey, how are you feeling?”

  
“Um. Floaty.”

Scott laughed, running a hand through his hair and shifting closer to the bed in his chair. “Yeah, I’m not surprised, they’ve put you on some pretty strong stuff. You had us all worried for a moment there.”

“I’m sorry.” A pause. “What happened to me?”

“Half a house fell on you. Broke your leg and a couple of ribs, some pretty nasty internal bleeding, but the doctors say everything should be healed in a couple of months.”

Virgil grimaced, but didn’t complain. He was well aware of the recovery time for broken bones, and the fact that he was in an actual hospital rather than the Island’s infirmary spoke volumes as to the seriousness of the injuries. Still, it was never fun to be cooped up for an extended length of time, especially since it meant that there was no way he would be cleared for any type of piloting.

He could feel the tug of sleep pulling at him, wanting to draw him back under, but he fought it off as long as he could. There was something important he needed to do first.

“Scott, I’m sorry. About Dave. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s okay, Virgil. Just- are you happy? With Dave, I mean.”   
  


“Yes.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” Scott smiled and Virgil succumbed to sleep, reassured in the knowledge that things between the two brothers had been fixed. 


	7. Fragility

It took almost two weeks before Virgil was allowed to return to Tracy Island, a low level infection extending his hospital stay beyond what he had expected. Even when he did arrive back home, it was with a bucketful of antibiotics and pain medication and coddling from his brothers, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much. Someone- and he strongly suspected Scott, he didn’t think his younger brothers would have the wherewithal or means- had let Dave know, had suggested that he visit the Island whilst Virgil was bed bound and unable to make his own way to Brooklyn, and Dave had agreed, Kayo herself agreeing to pick him up and bring him back after her doing whatever it was that she got up to on the mainland. Virgil was glad. The prospect of having to spend the foreseeable future apart from Dave had not been a prospect he particularly relished, and the promise that he would be visiting in a week’s time certainly helped to relieve some of the stress and worry. He was used to having to navigate their relationship around the problems that distance and hectic schedules brought up, but generally they were able to work something out, have some form of plan that meant they had something to look forward to. Virgil had been worried that with the recovery rate that accompanied broken bones- especially leg bones- he would be hard pressed to see Dave again before he was cleared for flight, especially since Dave didn’t have the luxury of his own private jet waiting around in convenient hangars that could be called upon at short notice. When Dave had called to let him know that he would be arriving at the Island soon, his mood had brightened considerably even if he had been too doped up on painkillers to make a coherent response. 

This happiness had not gone unnoticed by the rest of his family. Alan and Gordon had avoided any teasing out of deference to his injuries, and as he suspected Scott was complicit in Dave’s imminent arrival on the Island and honestly, he was just happy that Virgil was happy despite the circumstances. The only person, in fact, that said anything at all was Grandma Tracy whilst she sat with Virgil to keep him company, each of them cradling a steaming cup of green tea that Virgil wished was coffee instead, but was willing to not say anything in deference to his grandmother’s medical experience and the fact that she was always right anyway.

“You’re happy with him,” she had said, expression soft and knowing. Virgil had blushed, but didn’t try to deny it.

“Yeah. I just… I dunno, Grandma, it wasn’t planned or expected or anything, it just is.”

“The best ones always are. You’re more like your Dad than you give yourself credit for, though. I remember when he met your Mom, goodness. He just seemed to float, head in the clouds. That’s what you’re like now.”

  
“You think this is like Dad and Mom?”

“I think he makes you happy, Virgil, and that’s not always easy to find.”

“You really think so? I know- I know we’re not like Gordon and Penny or anything, but… yeah,” he said, trailing off and not quite sure how to finish the sentence properly. Grandma Tracy rolled her eyes.

“Honey, those two may have been mooning over each other for longer than you and Dave have, but that doesn’t mean that what you feel is any less than what Gordon feels for Penelope. Besides, you’re your own person. I have known you from before you were even born, I know when you’re happy, and this is it.”

“He… I just… it feels  _ right _ , you know?”

“I do. Honey, I know this might shock you, but I wasn’t always a grandmother.”

“I know,” Virgil replied, face reddening again. He disguised it with a sip of his tea, trying not to grimace at the taste.

“Just… a piece of advice. I know these sort of loves can be hard and fast, but keep something back for yourself, so you don’t get hurt.”

“Love?” Virgil asked, looking startled. Grandma Tracy just smiled at him, squeezing his hand.

“Oh honey. You’re so young.”

***

Dave had never really paid much attention to the rescues of International Rescue before now. He had been aware of them, in that they were often on the news particularly if it was a perilous situation, but generally Dave did not avidly watch what happened the way some fans did. He wasn’t completely sure what the justification behind not following them was. Certainly, part of it was avoiding the guilt that coiled like a snake when he was reminded of his own past actions, but whatever the reasons, he had managed to stay aloof from the goings on of International Rescue. Occasionally Virgil would call him if a rescue had been particularly tough, but even then that was more about reassurance and distraction rather than an in depth discussion about the rescue. Virgil tended to go to his family members if he needed that, and Dave was more than happy with that arrangement.

That had all changed in the course of a phone call from Scott. Dave wasn’t really sure  _ how  _ Scott had managed to get hold of his number- he suspected John had something to do with that- but Virgil’s brother had called him and informed him that Virgil had managed to hurt himself, badly, on a rescue and that Dave might want to visit if he could whilst Virgil was still in hospital. Dave had thanked Scott quietly for the call, packed a bag and booked the next flight to Sydney where the GDF hospital the Tracys used was based. He had never stopped to consider the dangers of his boyfriend’s profession before, hadn’t wanted to, but that call had thrown everything into sharp relief. Actually seeing him in the hospital had been worse; Virgil had been asleep at the time, looking fragile and breakable and Dave had not lasted long before he had needed to run out of there, claiming jet lag but in reality trying to suppress nausea. Then Virgil had caught a fever and visiting had been restricted, and before he knew it Dave had to return back to Brooklyn. He had felt guilty, so guilty, for the way that Virgil was lying there and knowing that in the past he could have put him there, for the way that he couldn’t stay and see the immediate, raw consequences of what Virgil and his brothers put themselves through. The whole experience had been enough to make Dave’s head spin, and he hadn’t even been aware that he had agreed to visit the Island until he received Kayo’s message as to when exactly she would be able to pick him up. By then it was too late to back out of the visit, would be too cruel to Virgil, and Dave had to accept. He could hear the excitement in Virgil’s voice, as rambling as he was at the time, and Dave hoped that by the time he reached the Island, Virgil’s injuries would be less obvious looking, that the guilt that Dave seemed to be wearing like an albatross would start to ease.

He was wrong. Whilst the bruises had started to yellow, they seemed to stand out even further against Virgil’s pale cheeks, his immobility at odds with the energy he and his brothers would otherwise possess, and the band that had settled around Dave’s conscience, heart and soul tightened further.


	8. Implosion

The problem, when things start to slip away, is that until it’s gone it’s very difficult to pinpoint the exact moment things started to fall apart. It’s only possible to do so when one can step back, put some emotional space in between what happened and the result, and survey the damage. It’s almost impossible to do so in the middle of the event, and often it’s difficult to realise that there even is a problem until it’s too late.

Maybe that’s why Virgil hadn’t been able to see the missile heading for his relationship with Dave. Virgil has never been as experienced as either Scott or Gordon when it came to relationships, the two of them trailing a string of uncomplicated hook ups behind them until they had found the person they wanted to tangle themselves up with. Virgil was the opposite. Where they had been content with casual, no strings attached one night stands, Virgil was fundamentally more emotional and tended to invest his feelings before there was even anything to become invested in. He did not have the same notches in his bed posts as Scott and Gordon; he had a collection of scars on his heart.

The thing with scars, though, is that they eventually heal. There’s the initial sting of the cut, and whilst they always leave a mark, the pain eventually fades and it’s possible to move on, no matter the hurt that was originally inflicted.

This was not one of those times.

From the start, Dave had been an anomaly to Virgil. There had not been the crush or pining stage followed by an excruciating admission of interest. Instead, Virgil had followed Scott’s tried and trusted method of going straight for the physical release and caught feelings along the way. Nothing had been planned, or intended. Everything had just  _ happened _ , much like they were happening now, and Virgil had lost control of the situation and his logic. In the field such a lapse could spell the difference between life and death. In the context of a relationship, it could have similar repercussions.

It had started subtly enough, so subtly in fact that Virgil hadn’t even noticed the warning signs. He hadn’t noticed the way that Dave’s jaw tightened when a rescue was mentioned, the way he never seemed to be able to look Virgil in the eye when Virgil called after returning to the Island, often tired and dirty and slightly more battered then when he had set off. He hadn’t noticed the deep silences that had been present when Dave had visited the Island during his recovery. Dave was often quiet, it wasn’t anything unusual or out of the ordinary, and Virgil hadn’t seen the pattern. If he had, then maybe he wouldn’t have said it, wouldn’t have flown halfway around the world to witness the final gasp of their short lived relationship. Four months was nothing, was child’s play. Virgil had longer relationships when he was a teenager. 

It didn’t mean it hurt any less.

He hadn’t meant to say it. He hadn’t recognised the warning signs, signs that were now so obvious as he sat in a nondescript New York hotel bar, a bottle of whiskey left at his elbow and the echoes of the earlier confessions running around in circles in his head.

_ I love you, Dave. _

_ I don’t want this anymore, Virgil. _

Those two sentences had taken them both by surprise. Virgil had sat, frozen in shock, staring at Dave’s face, before the need to run had taken over his instincts and he had fled the loft, only just managing to grab his overnight bag on the way. It was a hideous echo of the way he and Dave had got together in the first place, but this time Dave didn’t come after him and Virgil was able to stumble his way onto the subway, not wanting to have to navigate his way around automated taxis. The train shuddered its way along the track and spat him out in Manhattan, the skyscrapers towering above him but none quite as high as the Tracy Industries one, a feat of architecture and engineering that Virgil personally hated. Everything around him was glass and steel, so different from the brickwork of Brooklyn, but for once Virgil ignored all the differences in the different buildings that made up the patchwork of New York, instead focused solely on reaching the hotel where he was supposed to be staying in the first place.

The check in process was a blur, and before he knew it he was holed up at the bar, trying desperately to drown his sorrows in alcohol. He hadn’t had time to change out of the suit he’d worn to the board meeting earlier, his day spent listening to numbers and work plans and potential projects in the place of Scott who had jumped at the chance to miss the trip when Virgil had first offered to go in his place, and given the smartly dressed people dotted around the room it was probably for the best. He had spent the entire meeting slightly distracted, part of his attention focused on figuring out his feelings for Dave, whether it truly was love or whether he was trying to force something that was non existent. He’d eventually come to the conclusion that yes, it was love, and had resolved to tell Dave once he was sure it wasn’t going to be some slip of the tongue mistake that would ruin everything.

Virgil snorted and downed the rest of his drink, the alcohol burning just as much as the memories.

“Care to share?” The voice was light, airy and full of confidence, and Virgil couldn’t help but look up at the person standing at his elbow, decked out in a figure hugging little black dress and impossibly shiny hair twisted up at the nape of her neck. Virgil considered saying no, blondes weren’t his type and he tended to prefer men over women anyway, but there was something appealing to drowning his sorrows in something other than whiskey. Girls and alcohol had always helped Scott in the past get over his woes; it stood to reason that there was some method to the madness. Either way, he was sure he couldn’t feel more crappy than he already was. Might as well try and get some enjoyment out of the trip where he could.

Decided, he flicked his fingers and a second glass appeared. The lady sat down, waiting for Virgil to pour her a glass before taking a sip.

“Name’s Alex, by the way.”

“Virgil.”

“Nice to meet you Virgil. What’s led you to drinking alone on a Friday night?”

***

This was a mistake, and Virgil was at war with himself. The offer to go back to Alex’s room, which had been accompanied by a brief press of lips to his cheek and a whiff of Chanel perfume, had been easy enough to agree to but the guilty part of his mind had started shouting about Dave as soon as they had left the bar, continuing during the ride up in the elevator and the short walk to the hotel room.

As soon as Alex had shut the door and pulled Virgil in for a kiss, however, that guilty part of his mind had been ruthlessly pushed aside and Virgil’s hands had reached up, one to cup Alex’s face and tilt it slightly to allow the kiss to deepen whilst the other had reached around her back to tug at the concealed zipper. He felt the slide of his tie being pulled loose from his collar, slim hands pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders before moving to swiftly undo the buttons on his shirt. As soon as it had fallen to the floor Virgil pushed her dress down, over her torso and hips and once it had dropped to the ground Alex stepped out of it, toeing off her stilettos at the same time. She stood there, pausing for a split second, but Virgil didn’t wait, couldn’t wait for the rational- guilty- part of his brain to catch up and take over. Instead, he stepped forwards again, bending slightly in order to pick Alex up, encouraging her to wrap his legs around his waist whilst his lips found hers again, crushing against each other and kissing hard enough to bruise as he walked her over to the bed and deposited her on the mattress. His lips trailed down the side of her neck to her breast whilst her hands went to his belt, undoing the fastenings of his trousers and pushing them down as far as she could reach. Virgil kicked the rest of the material off his legs, his shoes already discarded, and it wasn’t long before their underwear joined the clothing strewn around the floor.

Virgil reached down to her core, fingers testing, managing to stimulate appreciative moans from his partner. His own erection strained with desire and he moved up to nip at Alex’s ear.

“I don’t have-" he began, but was interrupted before he could finish his sentence.

“Top drawer.” Virgil sat up, reaching over and pulling the top drawer of the bedside unit open and finding the required foil packet. He opened it and put the condom on quickly, Alex leaning up to run her hands over his torso as he did so, teeth nipping at his nipple. Virgil caught her lips again, leaning so that she was forced to lie back down again, her legs wrapping around his waist once more whilst Virgil settled between them. One of his hands braced against the bed to take his weight whilst the other guided his erection to her opening, and he surged forward.

It was not soft and gentle. There were no tender caresses and loving words, just a need fuelled by desire that left the bed creaking and their bodies beading with sweat from the exertion. It wasn’t until they had finished, Alex drifting off into a sated slumber whilst Virgil stared at the hotel room ceiling, that emotion came into play and the overwhelming guilt returned. Thoughts of Dave rushed to the forefront of his mind unbidden, and he closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come and that he hadn’t just completely burned any remaining chance of redemption and forgiveness.

***

When Virgil woke the next morning, it was to a pounding headache and apparently empty room. It took a moment for him to remember everything that had happened the day- and night- before, and when he did he groaned, flipping onto his front and burying his head in the pillow. If he could just hide, spend the day tucked away from the world and everyone and everything in it, then maybe he could figure a way out of the mess he had just created. He hadn’t meant to get drunk, or sleep with anyone; all he had wanted was to numb the pain that Dave had managed to cause.

_ I don’t want this anymore. _

The words were unforgettable, as was the look Dave had given him when he had said them, hard and closed off and not leaving much room for misinterpretation, and Virgil hadn’t stayed long enough to find out whether there was any misinterpretation to be had anyway. Despite all that, there hadn’t been a clear, definitive ending to the relationship, no ‘we’re over’ between them. Virgil supposed that didn’t really matter anymore anyway, not when his reaction had been to drink whiskey and screw the first person that came along.

The knowledge that he had probably signed the death certificate for the relationship burned, and Virgil felt as if he might throw up. He needed water, aspirin, a shower and Scott. Preferably in that order. Maybe that way, he could figure out where the hell he was supposed to go from here.


	9. Shattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot of angst and feels. Just a heads up.

Virgil spoke to Scott and Scott came to pick him up, the flight back silent as Virgil nursed his hangover and broken heart, retreating straight back to his room upon landing and not emerging for days. It had been left to Scott to explain what had happened, it was always left to Scott, and the family tiptoed around Virgil with the exception of Grandma Tracy, who had always been one of Virgil’s favourites. On the third day after coming back from New York she had sat in his room with him for hours, holding Virgil as he sobbed into her shoulder in an outpouring of grief and guilt. She stayed even when he finally fell asleep, too many sleepless nights and emotional turmoil mixing to create a cocktail of exhaustion, and when he woke up he finally agreed to come down for breakfast.

Life started to move on. Virgil wished he could move on with it.

On the surface, he was functioning. He was able to perform on missions perfectly well, even if he was quieter than before. He spent hours in the studio, or in the workroom, tinkering with things even if he still hadn’t embarked on a specific major project, if his designs and sketches were simply idle doodling rather than a work with a purpose and meaning. On The surface he was on the med, that he was moving on and that any residual concern that his family members had was unwarranted, unnecessary.

Virgil wasn’t fine though, because even if he could hide it on the surface, every other thought Virgil had was about Dave. Every so often, more often than he would have liked, he saw something or heard something that he would have ordinarily told Dave, and for a split second he would forget why he couldn’t tell him, and all the pain would come crashing down once more. Before, Thunderbird Two’s hangar and the workroom had been the perfect antidote to a disquiet mind and multiple sleepless nights, but now Virgil couldn’t bear to spend more than two hours in there, before he would want to turn to Dave to ask his opinion on an idea, or be reminded of the sensation of Dave’s lips and skin on his, and Virgil would all but sprint out of the workroom before it became overwhelming and he started to drown.

Virgil wanted to move on, wanted desperately to heal the aching crater in his chest that had been caused by the break up, but it felt insurmountable. He could feel himself slipping into old habits, habits that he had worked hard to overcome when first his mother died and later when his father disappeared. The eating was easy; even if everything tasted like chalk and ash, the thing with rescues was that they always made you hungry, no matter the state of your personal life. Virgil also knew that even if he didn’t feel hungry, the lack of eating would be pounced on by his brothers as soon as it reared its head, if Grandma Tracy didn’t get to him first, and Scott would definitely ground him from missions, which could absolutely not happen. The missions were the only thing keeping Virgil tethered to any form of sanity, and he absolutely could not be grounded.

The sleeping though, was so much harder. Virgil had never really had that great a relationship with sleep, had spent more than one night lying awake in bed staring at the ceiling while he tried to force his mind to just  _ stop  _ long enough to fall asleep, or to stay asleep. Even if he did manage to follow someone’s arbitrary definition of a ‘good’ time to go to bed, all tucked up and unconscious by midnight, that didn’t necessarily mean he was going to  _ stay  _ asleep, and really it was a good job that MAX was so good at espresso making, because some days- most days, really- the caffeine was the only thing that stopped him from feeling like he was going to go tumbling over a cliff edge into oblivion. It wasn’t healthy, he  _ knew  _ it wasn’t healthy, but what other option did he have when his mind woke him up at four, three, two in the morning and kept him up until his body took over, physically unable to keep him upright for another moment more? It wasn’t like they had regular sleeping patterns anyway, not like there was a reliable timetable of disasters and emergencies and the ever diplomatic  _ situations _ , as John liked to call them, that respected their need for eight hours of uninterrupted sleep at a time. All of their sleep schedules were a little bit fucked, so what if Virgil was waking up at an ungodly time even when he wasn’t on duty, even though he wasn’t and never had been a morning person. It didn’t affect his mission performance, hadn’t seemed to raise any alarm bells from the rest of his family apart from the odd question from his grandmother or father or Scott when there were particularly dark smudges under his eyes from a particularly bad night when he had to press his pillow over his face to stop himself from screaming from frustration and despair and loss. He was okay, he was functioning, his family didn’t need to know that he was still mourning something that had been lost at an ever increasing amount of time ago. Really, he should have moved on by now, the everything else had, the planet had not stopped spinning just because Virgil’s world had fallen off its axis into a freefall, his mind stuck on something that was in the past.

He was  _ fine _ , and things had moved on.

Penelope and Gordon got engaged, and Virgil smiled and congratulated them, agreeing to be Gordon’s best man with a hug that was completely natural, cast an approving critical eye when required over the ring that Gordon had picked out, a delicate rose gold band with small diamonds clustered around a central pearl that was so  _ them  _ that Virgil wanted to laugh, pretending that he hadn’t already been subjected to a mountain of pictures and insecurities from Gordon already. Not long after that, the excitement of the first Tracy brother to get engaged finally settling, the family were dropping the last Tracy off at college, crowding into a tiny dorm room as they reassured Alan that they were only a phone call away, that they could be there in under half an hour if needed. Alan had nodded, rolling his eyes at their over-protectiveness, and when he was busy hugging Scott goodbye, who had been on the verge of tears all day, John leaned over and told Virgil that he had managed to make sure that a certain Brandon Berringer was in the same flat so that Alan wouldn’t be lonely and Virgil tried not to despair at the encouragement of  _ that  _ particular friendship, even if it was wholly unfair given how well the pair got on. 

No matter how happy Virgil was for his brothers though, he still felt separated, as if he wasn’t fully there, as if he was still missing a piece of himself that had drifted away in the storm of emotions when Dave had told him that he wanted to break up and Virgil had found solace in the bottom of a bottle of whiskey and someone else’s bed. The world had moved on, had kept spinning, kept living on past that moment, but Virgil was still stuck.

He couldn’t move on. 


	10. Unexpected

Virgil was nearly knocked over by Alan as soon as he stepped out of the taxi, his youngest brother flinging himself into the hug in a way that was pure Alan. The two of them stood there for a moment, hugging each other tightly, before Virgil moved back out of Alan’s no longer noodle like arms and basked in Alan’s smile of excitement and brightness.

“Hey Virg. How was the flight?”

“It was fine. C’mon Allie, let me put my bag away and we can go grab some food. Is there somewhere in particular that you like to go?”

“We could go to Mojos?”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not anywhere fancy, it’s on campus, but even John approved of the cheeseburger when he came last month.”

“Oh, well then, if John approved it must be good. Gonna lead the way?”

“Sure. Hey, um, Virg, did you want to do anything tonight, or do you already have plans? I wouldn’t ask but I kinda forgot I have this… thing, later, which I can totally rearrange if you wanted to hang out but I should probably let them know.”

“Is it important?”

“Um… well it’s not school. I can rearrange, actually I will, you came all the way and he’ll understand.”

“‘He’?”

“It’s uh, kinda a date. Hey, that’s not funny!”

“Sorry Al, but you’re more red than thunderbird three. It’s okay though, you should go on your date, they’re having a delegates dinner anyway that I’m supposed to go to.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Anyway. Lunch, and you can tell me all about your date tonight. Is it the first one?”

“Third.”

“Ahhh, the  _ third _ .”

“Shut up Virgil,” Alan groaned, blushing even harder.

“Should I expect you for breakfast? Do we need to stop off at a drugstore?”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe you’re having this conversation with me.”

“Better me than Dad. Or worse,  _ Scott _ .”

“Having this conversation with any of you is bad enough.”

“You wound me. Seriously though, Alan,” Virgil stopped, snagging Alan by the arm so the two brothers were facing each other. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay? I know there’s a lot said about the third date but if you don’t feel ready or comfortable then don’t feel pressured into doing anything. If you do decide to sleep together though,  _ please  _ use protection.”

“I know.”

“And lube.”

“Jeez- Virg you’re worse than Gordon, fuck’s sake.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone now. Do I at least get a name though?”

“Um… Brandon.”

“ _ Berringer _ ?”

“Yes,” Alan replied, slightly defensively. “Not like you can talk, you went out with Dave.”

A flash of something crossed Virgil’s face and Alan immediately felt bad for bringing him up, but Virgil pushed past it, trying to get the conversation back on track and away from thoughts of a painful break up.

“Does he make you happy?”

“Yeah. He does.”

“Well that’s the most important thing. Alright then, I promise, interrogation over. Let’s go grab some food then you can show me around, sound good?”

“Sounds good.” Virgil slung an arm around Alan’s shoulders, and the two of them headed off down the corridor.

***

The afternoon passed quickly, Alan taking Virgil on a tour of the campus and talking to him about his lectures and studies until the two of them had to rush back to their respective rooms to get ready for their evenings. Virgil was glad to see Alan so happy, settled and by all accounts acting like any normal college kid should. There had been talks and worries about how Alan would react to being away from the Island and his family after having led a fairly insular life for most of his childhood and adolescence, but in all reality it had been Scott who had found the adjustment the hardest, suddenly no longer responsible for any younger siblings. Scott had been borderline inconsolable as soon as they had left Colorado, and whilst Virgil didn’t fully know what had happened between Scott and their father, he did know it had involved alcohol.

Alan had walked Virgil back to where Virgil was staying, the campus having a few rooms set aside for visiting delegates, but hadn’t stayed long, the excitement for his own date that evening propelling him back to his dorm and leaving Virgil to get ready for his own evening. It hadn’t taken Virgil long, and soon he was entering a large hall, wait staff flitting to and fro with trays of canapés and drinks whilst the delegates chatted and networked, trying to promote their own research whilst forming important contacts. Virgil hated these sort of events, Scott was so much better at small talk, but Virgil was the one with an engineering degree, not Scott, and the invitation had been addressed specifically to him. He probably wouldn’t have gone at all, if it hadn’t been at the University of Colorado and coincided with the week of the Thanksgiving holiday. He or Scott would have gone to being Alan back for the long weekend anyway, this just killed two birds with one stone.

The hall was busy and noisy, the dim lighting making the gems of people’s jewellery glitter and sparkle. Virgil managed to pick up a glass of prosecco, mercifully cold, and would have been content to stand at the sidelines nursing it until dinner was called, but unfortunately someone recognised him before he could reach a suitable corner and dragged him into a conversation in the middle of the room. He could be forgiven, then, for not noticing the other attendees who were not part of the tight knot that had surrounded Virgil and the professor who had recognised him until the dinner was called and Virgil had found his seat at one of the large round tables. It wasn’t until he sat in front of the place laid out for him and identified by a small, white card with his name written in clear elegant script that he glanced over at the seats either side of him, one depicting a name he didn’t know and one depicting a name he did. 

There, in the same clear elegant format that his own name had been written, was Dave’s name. Glancing up quickly, he spied Dave stopping on his way over to the table, eyes fixed on Virgil in shock, and Virgil wondered if the ground would be so kind as to open up and swallow him now.

***

The dinner had been excruciating. The courses had seemed to linger for an eternity, the price of being on one of the top tables meaning that they were served first and consequently halfway through their dinner before the last tables were served, although thankfully the other delegates at the table seemed to be enjoying themselves far too much to be concerned by the stiff atmosphere coming from the silent pair sat next to each other. There had been speeches that Virgil had been forced to sit through, once again top table status making it impossible to slip away discreetly, but finally,  _ finally  _ it was over and Virgil made his excuses before the coffee was brought out and he was sucked into yet more conversation.

He had made it as far as the corridor when someone called his name and he froze, pinned in place by the one voice that could freeze him at any moment. He didn’t turn, but it didn’t matter, because he could hear the footsteps coming towards him, echoing off the polished wooden floor.

“What do you want, Dave?” Virgil asked, finally looking up. He had attempted for calm, nonchalant, but his heart was pounding and his voice mirrored the tremble in his hands. Dave bit his lip, expression unsure, and he reached a hand out towards Virgil before seemingly realising what he was doing. 

“I… I didn’t realise you would be here,” he admitted, voice quiet in the empty corridor. “I just came to apologise.”

  
“For coming to the conference? I’m not organising it, I don’t hold a monopoly over the invitations and attendees.”

“No, not for coming to the conference.”

“For what then?”   
  


“For everything. For hurting you, again.”   
  


“Dave-”   
  


“I missed you.” Dave took a step closer and Virgil felt his resolve crumbling.

“I missed you too,” he admitted, and before either of them knew what was happening, or who even initiated it, their lips were locked in a kiss, desperate and longing. Virgil could taste the sugar on Dave’s tongue from the dessert, could feel the pull of his hair as Dave ran his fingers through it, trying to pull him closer, not that Virgil was in any position to comment with the way his hands had gone to Dave’s waist. The two of them stumbled slightly and Virgil felt the solidity of the wall behind his back whilst Dave’s lips moved from his mouth to his jaw and down to his neck, travelling back and forth over the pulse point in just the way he knew would drive Virgil crazy, and Virgil hoped Dave wouldn’t stop.

Virgil needed him to stop.

“Dave… wait,” he gasped, and Dave stopped, looking up with confusion written over his face. “This… we should talk.”

“We could talk tomorrow?” Dave offered, eyebrow quirking up. Virgil looked at him, deliberating the offer for a split second, before nodding. “Good. Come with me, my room is just down the hall.” He grabbed Virgil’s hand and the two of them took off down the corridor, almost running to the room, and as soon as Dave had managed to unlock the door the two of them were back in each other’s arms. Virgil’s hands went immediately to Dave’s belt buckle, fumbling with the fastenings whilst Dave made quick work of Virgil’s shirt. They didn’t stop moving, Dave backing Virgil up against the bed and pushing him down. Virgil felt like he was on fire, the passion and desire all consuming, and all he was aware of was the sensation of Dave’s skin on his, their fingers dancing over each other, alternating between soft and hard in time with the rocking of their hips. 

It probably wasn’t the smartest idea Virgil had ever had, but there was something about Dave that caused all of Virgil’s logic to go flying out the window. It was more than an addiction, more than a desire. Virgil needed Dave more than anything he had ever needed before, something that was deep seated and primal and unlike anything he had experienced prior to Dave coming into his life. It didn’t matter that it had been six months since that last fateful night Virgil had seen Dave, Virgil had never been able to completely rid himself of thoughts of Dave, and it wasn’t until now that he realised how much he needed him in his life, how he was incomplete without him. It was a terrifying realisation, only made sweet by the pleasure that Dave brought, pleasure that was unique to him and that overrode any attempt of coherent thought as soon as Dave looked at him.

Virgil shuddered in Dave’s arms, catching his lips in a kiss and swallowing the gasp of Dave’s own completion. They collapsed in a mess of limbs, the sheets tangled beneath them, and Virgil was just aware enough to feel the soft kiss pressed against his temple before slipping into the first truly peaceful sleep he had had since May.

***

Alan was waiting for him the next morning in the cafe, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face as Virgil slid into the booth.

“Good morning,” he said, far too brightly, but he at least had the grace to shove a mug of black coffee into Virgil’s face that he had already ordered. “Had a good night?” 

“As good as yours I expect. Nice hickey,” Virgil added, smirking as Alan blushed and slapped a hand over his collarbone.

“He said you wouldn’t be able to see it,” Alan grumbled, still covering up the mark.

“Word of advice, wear something with a collar. Why do you think Gordon wears shirts so much?” 

“...oh I didn’t need to know that,” Alan added with a shudder. “But you and Scott- uh, no. Not thinking about it.”

“Probably wise.”

“Anyway, I already know that you and Dave hooked up last night.”

Virgil choked on his coffee. “What?  _ How _ ?”

“I’m observant,” Alan replied cryptically, taking a sip of his own, undoubtedly over-sugared concoction. “And you aren’t denying it.”

“Are you sure you want to talk about this with me? What happened to not thinking about it?”

“Virgil,” Alan said seriously, putting his mug down. “I don’t need to know all the gory details. I just want to know that you aren’t going to get all mopey again. Are you guys getting back together again? Was this just a one night thing?”

“I don’t… we didn’t really get to that last night, to be honest,” Virgil admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Alan fixed him with a look that was so reminiscent of Scott Virgil had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“Well, I think you should work it out. You guys were good together. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but obviously there’s something still there if you slept with each other last night. Talk to him, figure it out. You never know, he may want to get back together.”

  
“What if I don’t want to?”

“I can already tell you do, you’ve been miserable ever since you came back from the last time you went to Brooklyn. You seem a lot lighter this morning, and the only thing that’s changed is talking to him.”

“...okay, fine. I’ll talk to him. I can’t promise anything though.”

“You don’t need to have it all figured out yet, but communicating with him will definitely help.”

“Alright Al, you’ve made your case. How was last night anyway?”

“It was good.”

“Just ‘good’?”

“It was really good.” There was pause as their food arrived and Virgil was glad that it was Alan who had been waiting rather than Gordon, who would have undoubtedly taken the absence as an opportunity to order something Virgil hated as revenge. A bacon roll was definitely more preferable to Virgil than one of the hideous smoothies Gordon was always trying to make him drink when left in charge of breakfast. “Um, actually, Virg, I meant to ask, do you think Brandon could come back with us for Thanksgiving? Just, um, he doesn’t really have anyone else to spend the holiday with, and I just thought that as you’re here and all, it would be easy enough to bring him back. I get if we can’t, I just thought he might enjoy it.”

“I think that would be fine, Al,” Virgil replied, smiling reassuringly at Alan. Alan’s expression lit up.

“Alright! I’ll ask him after class, we were supposed to meet up for lunch.”

“No problem. You’ll have to let Grandma and Scott know that the guest room will be needed though, even if Brandon is staying in your room,” Virgil teased.

“ _ Virgil _ !” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo technically this should be posted Monday BUT it’s my birthday and this was written over a month ago and I really want to post it now 😂
> 
> Mojos is a real place, it was the bar at my uni that I spent way too much time in 😂 but they did have good burgers.
> 
> There is a companion chapter to this one, in Ocean Eyes. It is chapter five, if you don’t want to read the whole thing, but it’s the Alan/Brandon strand to this whole universe.
> 
> Finally this whole story has an extremely extensive playlist but I recommend listening to Nicotine by Panic at the Disco because that’s what I listened to when writing this chapter and it has the vibes.


	11. Completion

They didn’t really talk the next day, but Virgil would be lying if he said that he wasn’t relieved. The night before had him feeling as if his soul was finally complete again, the various shards of his shattered heart finally coming back together again and he wasn’t sure if he could risk that again, could go through all that pain for a second time. It felt as if he had barely survived the first time, a second round would finish him off completely.

So, he avoided Dave. It wasn’t difficult. The day was filled with talks and lectures and the dreaded networking, full of people of varying degrees of importance- as terrible as that sounded- all vying for the attention of the delegate from one of the biggest technological companies in the industry. Not for the first time since arriving, Virgil wished that it was Scott who was there, rather than himself. Scott was  _ always _ so much better at this kind of thing, knew exactly what to say and when. Even John would be better, even if he did have a tendency to vanish whenever the time came for talking. Maybe next time they should send a tag-team of John and Gordon; John could understand the lectures without even trying, Gordon could put the time spent with Lady Penelope to good use. He may be down a brother by the end of the conference, but that was a risk Virgil was willing to take.

One day morphed into two, and soon it was lunchtime of the third day and Virgil had managed to successfully avoid Dave for the entirety of the conference, barring the first night and morning. He could admit to himself that he was scared, scared that he was reading too much into their night together, scared that Dave would break his heart again. There was the very real possibility that for Dave, that night together was nothing more than that, just like it was the first time they tumbled into bed together back on the Island. It was okay, if that’s all Dave wanted, Virgil wouldn’t hold it against him. He just wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to find out.

It was maybe better to not have that last, lingering flicker of hope snuffed out.

In the end though, like so many things in Virgil’s life, the choice was taken out of his hands because that lunchtime on the last day of the conference Dave came up to him and Virgil was without the buffer of other delegates to lose himself in. The room they were in was practically empty, the numbers of attendees dwindling significantly now that the talks and lectures had concluded, trying to get home to their families before the pre-Thanksgiving travel rush. Virgil would have been one of them, except he was also giving Alan- and Brandon, once Alan had confirmed he would be spending the time off with them, breathless in his excitement at the prospect- a lift back home, and Alan still had an afternoon class. Virgil was not one to turn down food when it was offered, especially if it was cooked by someone other than Grandma Tracy, but he was starting to regret that decision when Dave came up to him.

“Hi,” Dave said, short and succinct as ever, but Virgil could detect something in his tone that was not normally there, a nervousness and vulnerability to his expression. It probably shouldn’t have, but it filled Virgil with a sense of relief. If Dave was feeling as apprehensive as he was, then there was a good chance that the conversation was going in the direction that Virgil hardly dared let himself to hope for.

“Hi.”   
  


“We need to talk.”   
  


Virgil nodded shakily in agreement, not quite trusting himself to talk yet. It was necessary, their talk, and the chance that it would go the way he wanted had increased the moment Dave came up to him, but Virgil was still sure that this voice would come out embarrassingly squeaky if he tried to speak in that moment.

Dave didn’t say anything further either, setting down his plate on one of the tables dotted around the room for the sole purpose of collecting used crockery, and heading out of the room, nodding his goodbye to one of the organisers whilst tucking his name badge into a pocket. Virgil followed, garbling out his own goodbye, before hurrying down the corridor after Dave. He wondered, for a moment, where they might be going, but when Dave held the door to the main campus coffee shop open for him, Virgil’s brain finally caught up and finished processing what was happening.

The two of them were almost silent whilst they were being served, only speaking when it came time for them to order. Virgil trailed after Dave, the two of them weaving their way through tables until they were able to settle themselves down at a relatively secluded spot along the back wall in the corner, sitting side by side on the high chairs. Virgil clutched his coffee cup tightly, hoping that the nerves he was feeling wouldn’t be too obvious. Not knowing what else to do, he took a sip of his drink, wincing as it scalded his tongue and throat but feeling too jittery to not move at all. Maybe caffeine had been a bad idea. Maybe sleeping with Dave had been a bad idea. Maybe-

“I don’t regret it, you know. The other night.”   
  


-maybe Virgil had been overthinking this whole situation.

“Me neither,” Virgil replied quietly, staring at his hands, still laced around his mug.

“I missed you,” Dave said, equally quiet, equally vulnerable, and Virgil looked up at that. There was a surety to Dave’s words that Virgil had never heard before, one that matched the expression on Dave’s face. Virgil had seen Dave’s looks of openness before, a complete antithesis to his normal, guarded demeanour. It was a softness Virgil had only ever seen in private; he realised now that it was a softness saved only for Virgil.

“I missed you too,” Virgil admitted, and Dave seemed to almost wince at the pain and honesty behind those words, eyes dropping down to his own drink for a brief respite from the intensity that the short, nearly non-existent, conversation had dragged up.

“When… before,” Dave said, licking his lips out of nerves, “you said you loved me.”   
  


“Love,” Virgil corrected before he could stop himself. Dave stared at him and Virgil ducked his head, a flush creeping up his neck, but he didn’t try to retract the statement. Dave swallowed.

“I… I didn’t say it back. That I love you.”   
  


“Do you?”

“Yes.”   
  


“Then why-” Virgil closed his eyes briefly, trying to sift through the additional emotion that Dave’s confession had created. “Then why did you  _ leave _ ?”

“Because I was ashamed.”

The answer was whispered and so heavy with remorse that the words seemed to crack under the weight.

“Why?” VIrgil asked, slightly bewildered by the turn the conversation had taken. Dave shifted in his seat.

“Because… you and your brothers are so  _ good _ . All you’ve ever done is try to help people, and I- I tried to hurt them. Tried to hurt  _ you _ . I can’t… you deserve someone who’s good, Virgil. When you had that accident, you could have died. That’s hard enough to think about. It’s immeasurably  _ worse _ knowing that the person who put you in that kind of danger could have quite easily been me. It  _ was  _ me, for a while. And just… I don’t deserve to love you, or be loved by you, when you’re so good and I tried to destroy that, so many times.”   
  


There was silence when Dave came to the end of his speech. Virgil was physically frozen whilst his mind raced through all of the different implications, trying to make sense of what Dave had just said. Things were slotting into place, memories of the little things from their time together- the way that Dave had never been able to watch the news, had stiffened up whenever a rescue was mentioned, they way his jaw clenched whenever he heard about a man-made disaster. The way he had grown distant when Virgil had been injured, all those months ago. The way he had been so invested in that debate about morality, the first time they had really talked.

It was that memory that prompted Virgil into talking.

“It’s always so black and white with you, isn’t it? A person is either good, or they’re bad.”

“Aren’t they?”

“No! Dave, things aren’t… aren’t that simple, not when it comes to people. We’re too complex. Something that’s as binary as being either good or bad completely disregards any consideration for… for context, or redemption, or growth. Humans are always trying to learn, trying to expand. If you try and restrict something as vast as human reality to one of two options, you completely ignore that. You completely ignored the good  _ you _ have done.”   
  


“What good?” Dave scoffed, and Virgil rolled his eyes in a burst of exasperation.

“Like, I don’t know, helping save my dad? Protecting my home and my grandmother? I know she lets you call her Grandma, she wouldn’t do that if you’re all bad.” Virgil smiled at Dave, trying to alleviate some of the pressure. Dave ducked his head in acknowledgement, but there was still a tightness and apprehension shrouding him and Virgil sighed. “Dave. I’m not going to pretend that your actions in the past haven’t been bad, but fundamentally you are a good person. If you weren’t, then you wouldn’t be feeling as guilty as you do now.”

“You truly believe that?”   
  


“I do.”   
  


Dave was quiet for a moment and Virgil waited, hoping that his words were sinking in, that Dave would start to believe them too. Eventually, Dave looked up again and Virgil’s mouth turned to cotton as he realised that this was it. This was the moment that would serve as the tipping point in terms of their relationship, whether it would continue or not.

“Do you think that… that we could try again?”

Virgil’s breath left him in a rush, and he turned fully in his seat, cradling Dave’s face between his hands. Their faces were so close that their lips were almost brushing, and one of Dave’s hands reached up to rest on top of Virgil’s.

“Of course,” Virgil whispered, and for the first time during that conversation, Dave smiled, warm and genuine. He tipped his head up slightly, still held by Virgil’s hands, and closed the last few centimetres between them, sealing the agreement with a kiss. For the first time since leaving New York all those months ago, the disquiet feelings inside of Virgil settled, leaving behind only contentment as he kissed Dave back, slow and sweet. 

For the first time in months, Virgil felt complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! :D This has been so much fun to write, I hope you have all enjoyed it.


End file.
